


Thieving Little Rat

by 1JettaPug



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Macro/Micro, Magic, Tension, magic beans, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: Jamison is a young, poor man living from place to place. Stealing and trading are the only ways he is scraping by. When he gets run out of his latest hiding place, Jamison ends up running into a band of thieves. Starving and desperate, he joins the band of thieves in hopes of a warm meal and a little protection. In exchange, Jamie must help them break into a fortress rumored to belong to an old man named Jack. Legend says it's full of riches from old man Jack's quest up a magical beanstalk decades ago.





	1. Chapter 1

Jamison opened his eyes and blinked. He felt warmth of decaying straw from below and cool autumn air penetrating from above. But it was an unpleasant sensation that woke him: three points of cold metal pressing into his throat, chest, and belly. He thought of the pitchfork, always propped against the wall near the barn door.

"Get up," a familiar voice ordered.

"How c- can I, mate?" Jamison replied. He knew there was fear in his voice, but that was all right. The man holding the pitchfork might take pity.

"Show your face, then," the voice growled. He prodded with the pitchfork as he spoke.

Jamie whimpered. He was sure the middle tine had pierced the skin on his chest. He could feel his heart hammering under the wound. Moving cautiously, he reached up and pushed the straw away, revealing his dirt-smudged face.

The farmer glared down at Jamison's sharp nose, amber eyes, and patchy bits of blond hair. Jamison had watched this man from hiding for nearly a month now. But the farmer had never known he was there until now.

"Oh, George, it's just a boy..." said a second voice. The farmer's wife stood behind her husband, holding an enormous knife. "Or it may be an old man, it's hard to tell really."

"Just a boy, eh? Just a thief, ya mean! Stealin' the food from our mouths." He wiggled the pitchfork as he spoke, and the pain in Jamison's chest flared at all three points. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his lips back from clenched teeth.

"How long you been around here?" the farmer questioned him.

"A couple of days," he lied.

"Days? Bah," the farmer laughed, bitterly. "A month is more like it. That's when the chickens stopped layin' so many eggs. And the cow stopped givin' so much milk. And the onions started to vanish. Ain't it?"

"Please- You're hurtin' me!" Jamison said. He had seen the farmer's cruel nature as he watched from hiding these past weeks: beating the dog, cursing at his wife, twisting the neck of a rooster that pecked his ankle too many times.

"I'll do worse than hurt," the farmer hissed. There was an angry spark in his eye.

"C- Can't we work something out, m- mate?"

"No!" he growled out.

"Now, George," said his wife. "We can't just kill the poor boy, can we?" From the tone of her voice, Jamie thought this was a question of practicality, not morals. Would they get in trouble? Would they get caught?

"This little RAT won't be missed. I'll cut 'em up and fatten our pigs on the pieces. Get back what's ours, we will!" The pitchfork drew back and came down again for the killing thrust. But Jamison reached up from the straw and grabbed the pitchfork with his only hand. With surprising strength coming from a lithe man with a single hand, he shoved it to one side, and the points plunged deep into the pile, inches from his gut. The farmer pulled back on the fork with a grunt and Jamison held on, scrambling to his feet, with yellow strands of straw flying into the air. Chickens and geese squawked and flapped around the barn, and the cow turned to watched with mild interest.

With a savage scream, the farmer twisted the pitchfork, wrenching it from Jamison's hand. Jamie darted the other way, only to see the wild-eyed wife coming at him with the enormous knife. Jamie had to duck to avoid the deadly slash. He dropped to all fours (well, one hand, one foot and a peg-leg) and scampered underneath the cow. Looking back, he could see two pairs of legs coming around opposite sides of the animal. He shot back under the belly again and raced through the open door into the pale light of dawn.

"I'll get ya yet, boy!" the farmer shouted. But Jamison knew the race was over. The farmer had a bad leg that would not straighten, and could only hobble along in slow pursuit. Jamie at least had youth on his side, one good leg left and a decent peg-leg he managed to put together.

Jamison felt his sweat stinging in the three wounds, and a white-hot anger flooded through him. He picked up a stone and flung it at the farmer. "Ya can't kill me if ya can't catch me, ya drongo!"

The farmer threw his arms in front of his face and the stone flew over his shoulder. He pointed at Jamison, "Ya better run, little thief! Rung while ya can! We'll set the dogs on ya, my neighbors and me! We're comin' after ya! Thief! Wretch!" He went on screaming until Jamison was much too far to hear him anymore.

Jamison dashed across fields and hopped a stone wall. When he was out of sight at last from the bellowing farmer, he changed directions to avoid pursuit, heading away from the rising sun.

An hour later, he came to a stream. He sat on a large rock and pulled his ragged tunic up, tucking it under his chin. The wound on his chest was still bleeding. He cupped water in his hand and splashed it onto the gash.

Jamie looked down at the ribs that were plain to see under his skin, and the shrunken space where other boys had plump bellies. He was not quite the skeleton that had crawled onto the farm a month ago and began to drink the eggs raw, and lay under the cow to squeeze its milk into his open mouth. But he was still terribly thin.

He had lost more than a hiding place; he had had to leave behind the sack of items he had stolen over time. They were things of meager value- a ceramic bottle, a pewter spoon, bits of colored glass, buttons, a buckle without a belt, a brass thimble, a toy horse made of wood- but he might have traded them for something to eat.

Jamie wondered how long he could last before he found another source of food. Shivering a little in the cool morning, he wondered also where he would take shelter from colder days to come. He let the tunic fall back to his knees and turned toward the sun.

 _"Might as well go west,"_ he thought to himself. _"The sea is out there somewhere. I'd luv to see that. Maybe get on a ship, go far, far away from here."_

The sea was nowhere in sight now, though. From this spot, it looked like heading west would bring him to a high, wild land. There were no roads or trails, no visible farms or towns, no smoke rising from chimneys. At the far horizon stood a rocky ridge. Maybe on the other side there was a better place.

A dim sound floated toward Jamie from the direction he had fled: a dog barking- and more dogs echoing the cry.

Quickly, he leaped across the stream and ran toward the wilderness.

*******

He did not care if the legend was true or not. The only thing that mattered was the fortune.

"If we can find a way to get inside, there's enough gold in there to make us rich as queens," said Sombra.

"And k- kings?" a lowly grunt spoke up.

Gabriel sent him a glare that silenced him. "Rich as queens," he told him, then sent him and the three others with him to the left side of the forest that surrounded their target.

Now only Sombra and Gabriel observed the great house as it gleamed under the full moon. They were hidden in the inky undergrowth at the forest edge. Gabriel was by far the bigger of the pair, handsome and powerfully built, with a well trimmed beard along his strong jaw. His companion was an agile woman clad in a dark hood and a longer coat.

There were twenty altogether in Gabriel's brand of thieves. Gabriel was careful about whom he enlisted into his group, Talon. He preferred his team strong, fast, and deadly with weapons. Slightly built, Sombra was the exception, but there was a reason. Her body might not have been the most built of the team's, but she had a certain _magic_ touch when it came to vaults and locks. The little sorceress had proven herself more than valuable to Talon on many occasions. Gabriel was counting on Sombra now to help him find a way into the fortress before them.

It was not nearly as big as some of the impressive castles he had seen here and there in his wanderings, or the one he had been driven from years before. But in this remote area, it was the largest structure for many miles around.

Yet the purpose of its architecture was not to be big; the intent was to be impenetrable. There was only one entrance, a massive wood and iron door that looked sturdy enough to defy a battering ram. There were windows high and low, but they offered little promise. The low ones were narrow slits, crossed by heavy bars. The upper windows were wider but far out of reach, nearby forty feet off the ground.

The building was placed on a gently rising hill. The slope and the flat fields around it were kept clear of bushes and trees, making it difficult to approach unseen. At all times, a sentry patrolled the top of the walls, slowly pacing the square perimeter.

"Soooo, you really believe that story, about the giant and the beanstalk?" asked Sombra, glancing down at her nails for a moment. "Cause that's gotta be a huge motivation in order for us to break into a stronghold, Gabe."

"I don't believe the story for a second," he told her. "But what does it matter anyway? I don't care where his wealth came from. I just want it to be mine."

Sombra turned her peering eyes back to the fortress, and went on to say, "It could be true, though, couldn't it? Think about it. Old man Jack was just a boy when it happened, they say. Now he might be the oldest man in these parts. So everyone who might have seen it happen is dead, and only the story is left. And you know how stories are: They get told, stranger to stranger, father to son, mother to daughter, and they change a bit every time they're passed along. Before long you don't know what's real and what's total trash."

Gabriel had no patience for this speculation. The wealth inside those white stone walls was a siren calling to him. "Sombra. Jack is simply a crazy old man with nothing better to do than make up stories about himself and make himself a hero to the people of this land. What a load..."

"Now find me a way in there, if you would."

"Already found a way," Sombra said. "But first we have to get closer."

Gabriel nodded. He reached to the ground and picked up a lantern that was covered with metal doors to conceal its glow. He kept it close to his belly and turned his back to Jack's fortress, to shield the light from the sentry, Then he opened and closed one of the hinged doors three times.

At the wood's edge a few hundred yards to the north, two more of Talon's members saw the signal. They began to make noise, shaking branches and mimicking the sounds of forest animals. The disturbance had the desired effect, as the sentry went over to that side of the castle wall.

"Let's go," Gabriel said. With Gabriel leading the way, the two cutthroats broke from cover of the trees and headed for the fortress. The moonlight illuminated them as they ran, but the distracted sentry did not see them and they safely reached the darkness at the foot of the white stone walls.

"Now tell me- when the time comes, how do we get in?"

"I thought these might be the answer. Now I'm not so sure," She pointed at the ivy that snaked up to the highest reaches of the wall with.

"Those vines? No adult could ever climb them. Look how flimsy they are." He gave a hard yank on one of the vines, and it peeled from the wall with a sound like ripping fabric.

"Yes, yes. I can see that, now that we're close," said Sombra. "They couldn't support anyone in our group. ...But what if we got a kid- or some spindly young man- to climb up there and unlock the huge door for us?"

Gabriel worked his jaw side to side, thinking it over. He gave one of the sturdier vines a gentler tug. It clung fast to the walls, where its tiny threadlike fingers penetrated the cracks and seams of the stone.

"Yes," he nodded. "All we need is a little thief- a little rat to do some climbing for us." He gave a little grin. With his hands to the stone, he could practically feel Jack's treasure through the walls.

A minute later, Sombra and Gabriel ran unseen back to the shadows of the forest, heading for the hidden lair of the band of thieves.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Gabriel packed food and blankets into a leather bag. He was prepared to spend several days if necessary to find the young man he needed.

He roused the rest of Talon from their tents, kicking the ones who woke too slowly. The group was drowsy and a bit pissed off, but they feared Gabriel and his lieutenants too much to complain.

It was a cool morning when the thieves gathered close around the campfire to hear what Gabriel would say. Akande stirred the hissing coals and threw on new wood. Sparks flew up and died amid the rising smoke.

"We've discovered the way into Jack's little fortress," Gabriel told them, his face red in the fire's glow. "So I'm off to recruit a new member of Talon... Well, a temporary member of Talon."

"Akande," Gabriel's eyes flicked over to the taller man. "You're in charge while I'm gone-"

"Aaaanndd?" Sombra gave Gabe this look, like a child expecting a present.

"And Sombra is second in charge while I'm gone."

"Yay,"

Gabriel simply shook his head at her childish attempts to annoy him. "Now, see that the team doesn't get up to too much mischief. And deal with disobedience however you like."

Akande- or Doomfist as it said on his wanted posters- stood at Gabriel's side with his arms crossed. Of all of members of Talon, Akande had the most brute force and strength. He stood a head taller than the rest and never met a person who could look him straight in the eye.

"I'll be back soon enough," Gabriel said. He slung the leather pack over his shoulder, and left to search for the young man he needed to complete his quest.

As he tromped through the forest, toward a village south of Talon's base, he thought again about Jack's gold and how to make it his. Like everyone else, he had heard the story of Jack now and again over the years. It was quite popular among common folk who spent the dark nights sharing tales of heroes and magic and monsters. But Gabriel had noticed a difference with the story each time it was told.

He could recall one old man, by the glow of a fire, telling the story of the boy cutting down the beanstalk and the giant crashing to their doom. Then he pointed to a distant place and spoke these words: "And they say ol' Jack is yet alive, an ol' man now, and he lives in a great house, with riches beyond imagination- a house that lies some place north and east of here,"

Gabriel disregarded all the bits about magic beans and giants, but he began to think there was a seed of truth to the story after all- the part about a rich man in a house full of gold. Because time and time again, a storyteller would end the tale of Jack in a similar fashion, even indicating the same direction: north and east.

Many seasons passed, and Gabriel was sure that he was drawing closer, because the tales from the storytellers added new elements to the end of the tale. _"They say Jack built himself a fortress, with great walls of heavy white stone... Jack invited all his friends and family to live in wealth with him... They say Jack and his bunch are quite generous to the poor and the hungry... Jack is old, and despite his wealth, is a sad man who never leaves his home..."_

One fine morning, Gabriel learned that Talon was moving closer and closer towards his goals. They met a young maiden who knew of the tale. Although she was unnerved by their rough appearances, Sombra was quick to flash a single silver coin and coaxed the story from the girl. The girl spoke of where she had seen the white stone house with her own eyes, and it was only about a week's journey away. An old man named Jack still lived there with his friends and servants. He was a sad and mysterious man, but everyone agreed that he was rich, with a seemingly endless supply of gold- the source of which was said to be the magical hen that laid the golden eggs. "To find his house, just follow this road north to the mountains, then take the eastern path when you reach the crossroads. Avoid the western way, for a plague has taken a village there," the girl told them.

One week after that encounter, late in the day, Talon stood on a ridge at the peak of the eastern road. To the north, the ridge grew taller and larger until, some miles off, it could be called a mountain, the first peak in a craggy spine a hundred miles long. The eastern side was illuminated with golden light, while the western slopes looked cool and dark. Gabriel could see the ocean disappear to the east. The sun was dipping below the watery horizon.

And below them, only a few miles away, was a great house of white stone. Glowing in the fading daylight, it was the brightest object on the landscape. Gabriel noted that a thick forest lay between the mountains and Jack's house, creeping within an arrow's flight of the walls. A perfect place to make camp. A perfect place to observe and learn. And for two weeks, that was what he and Sombra mainly did.

They caught fleeting glimpses of the old man who must have been Jack when he went to one of the high windows. One afternoon, as storm clouds filled the sky, the old man was on the rooftops, staring at the thunderheads as they rumbled by.

Jack was not alone. A young girl, no more than six years old, lived there too. There were at least seven friends and or servants: two older men near Jack's age, three young men and two women. The young men looked like they could take care of themselves in a fight.

Once a week or so, a blonde woman emerged from the fortress in a one-horse cart and drive off along a path that cut through the forest. The cart was always laden with a trunk or three. What was inside, Gabriel could not guess. Two or three days later, the driver would return to Jack's home.

Gabriel watched, waited, and planned. He was certain his twenty could overpower the old man's seven, especially at night while some slept. When the front door opened, he saw how one man could easily slide the huge but well-greased bolt that locked it from the inside. The only question was how to get in, and now he had the answer to that: Find a young climber to scale the vines.

Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the forest. Where was he going? To the farmlands near Jack's fortress? All he would be able to find there would be fat, happy farm boys who wouldn't come with him unless he kidnapped him. And then what? The people of the land would be out looking for the missing boy. No, no, no. He had to find a young man who would be glad to help him- a young man no one would miss, with no place to go.

Then Gabriel remembered something the girl had told them. _"Avoid the western way, for a plague has taken a village there,"_

"Where there is a plague, there are orphans," he muttered softly to himself. It was quite risky to approach a plague-stricken village, but his instincts told him this was the way to find what he was looking for. Besides, experience had taught him that such an illness runs its course and vanishes.

Gabriel changed directions and headed west through the forest. He thought again of the gold that would soon be his. The more he thought about it, the faster he walked. Soon he was running.

*******

Jamison tilted his head toward the noise. Was it the leaves hushing and rustling in the cool breeze, or was it running water? He stepped forward and other sounds emerged: gurgling, trickling, and the crystal music of water dashing among stones. Spying a wide, shallow stream through a gap in the trees, he ran to the banks and dropped to his knees to drink from a bowl he formed with his hands.

When Jamie finally looked up, he was quite surprised to see a small farm on the other side of the stream- the first hint of humanity in two days. His impulse was to hide among the trees so that he might creep back at night like a mouse for shelter and food. But a second glance revealed that the farm had been forsaken some time ago. The fence around the pasture was in disarray and no cows or horses were in the fields. The thatched roof of the one-room farmhouse was partly collapsed, and the walls of the round stone well were crumbling.

In front of the tiny house, a rusty old ax was buried deep in the largest of several trees stumps. A few old pieces of wood and sticks were scattered around. Jamie wondered if the farmer had just given up trying to draw life from the poor soil and just walked away.

"Or," Jamie thought, feeling unease and the painful memories rising in his chest. "the sickness came here, too."

Hopping from rock to rock, Jamie crossed the stream. Suddenly, a sharp pang of hunger clawed at his gut. No one had tended that field for years, but some vegetables might be growing wild there yet. He raced over and was clawing through the weeds, uprooting anything that looked like a carrot, turnip or onion, when he heard something from the direction of the ridge: the high _clack-click-clack_ of a stone sticking other rocks.

He turned around and saw a man standing halfway down the slope, perfectly still. The stranger's eyes followed the tumbling stone until it came to rest at the bottom, settling among a pile of other pebbles and boulders that had rolled down over the years. A prickly chill swept over the back of Jamie's neck. This man might have been creeping stealthily toward him, until one loose stone had given him away. Quickly, Jamie lowered himself until he was hidden among the weeds.

When he lifted his head again to peer out, he saw the stranger coming forward again. The man moved casually, with his hands thrust in his pockets. He kicked a few stones ahead of him as he descended, as if he didn't care how much clamor he made now that his presence was revealed. He reached the bottom and sauntered toward the farm. The closer he came, the more nervous Jamie felt. The man was large and strong, and despite his dark cloak and offhand demeanor, he still seemed like a predator ready to spring.

"Come on out, boy. I saw you from up there. Besides, you're much too tall to attempt to hide in some weeds."

Jamison knew that he should have bolted, because this stranger just radiated danger the same way flames gave off heat. But he thought about it a moment too long. He heard a single footstep coming toward him, and the stranger was suddenly coming towards him. Jamie attempted to scramble to his feet and run, but powerful hands seized him from behind- one on his only arm and the other grabbing a handful of his patchy hair.

"Hold on now, boy. I won't hurt you... Well, unless you try to _run away_." He accentuated his words by twisting Jamie's hair, so fiercely that it felt like the back of his head had caught fire. Jamie stopped struggling.

"I will let go of you now," said the man. "And I want you to turn around and look at me. If you run, I'll break your bum leg, so there's no point to it, is there? Understand?" Jamie growled, but the man released his grip. "The name's Gabriel."

"Well, Gabriel, ain'tcha just a noice bloke," Jamie muttered, trying not to eye the two swords that hung by the man's waist. "Threatenin' ta break my peg-leg..."

Gabriel ignored the younger man's mouth and looked him over from head to toe, and he seemed to approve of what he saw. "Oh, you'll do, won't you? Can't weigh more than three stone, can you? Down an arm and a leg, and I'm able to count all your ribs."

"W- What do you want with me?" Jamie asked, looking down at the five bruises, one for each finger, that had blossomed on his arm.

Gabriel painted a broad, friendly smile on his face. "Just a little favor, boy, that's all. Tell me your name."

"Jamison Fawkes..."

"Jamison Fawkes," Gabriel repeated. "Such a fine name for a poor boy." He rubbed his jaw and asked, "This your farm? Is this where you live?"

Jamie shook his head.

"So what are you doing here, then? Any family around?"

Again, Jamie shook his head.

"What about friends? Any of those around here?"

Another sad shake.

"Such a shame. But you know what, Jamie? I could be your friend. I've been looking for a young man just like you. And here you are, in the first place I looked. That makes me think it was meant to be. You see, I need a favor that only a little fellow like you can do. A big fellow wouldn't do for this job."

Gabriel flashed his smile again, but Jamie's instincts were sending him all sorts of mixed signals. Gabriel noticed that his charm wasn't exactly working on him, and his eyes narrowed.

"Think about it, Jamison. You need me, too. I know you do. See, I understand everything about you, though I never met you before this moment." He told him. "Lost your family. Was it the plague, boy?" Jamie felt his entire body go rigid and wished he had been able to control himself better, because Gabriel's eyes narrowed further and his smile spread a little wider.

"Thought so," he said. "It was probably a couple of years ago, wasn't it? The villagers probably burned down your old home, without bothering to bury the dead. Then you were on your own, and there was nobody to take care of you. Maybe you asked for someone to give you a place to sleep, a place to come home to. But no one ever did. No one ever wants an extra mouth to feed. And no one ever wants to feed an extra mouth when it can't even do most jobs."

Jamie turned his head to the right, feeling shame as Gabriel spoke those words. "My limbs are my own business..." he muttered, softly.

Gabriel stepped closer and set a hand on his shoulder. "You're a beggar, a wanderer. Done some stealing, too, didn't you? Anything to survive. And now look at you, scavenging in an old vegetable garden like an animal. But think about it, Jamison: winter will follow. And what will you do when there's no food to scrounge- you, with your cheeks sunken in and all your ribs showing, already? How do you keep warm when the nights are cold enough to freeze spit, and you've got no coat to wear, no blanket to wrap around you, no fire to cozy up to?"

Jamie's head bent low. His knobby shoulders were trembling.

"I was that way once too. Shunned. Hungry. Hunted. I figured I had a choice to make. And I chose to fight back, survive any way I could. Understand?"

Jamie turned to look Gabriel angrily in the eye. "I've already done some wrong along the way. The world has already done me a load of wrong first. I pay the world back every chance that I can get." Jamie straightened up to his full height, towering over Gabriel and hoping to intimidate.

It wasn't working. Gabriel knew he had the upper hand both in strength and speed.

"Come with me. I've got friends who were all just like you once. We've set up camp over that ridge. You can join us. We'll be your family. You can stay warm by our fire. And we'll feed you right- meat, biscuits, soup, you name it. How would a nice hot bowl of venison stew go down right now, Jamison?"

At the very suggestion of food, real food, Jamie's mouth became flooded with saliva. He failed to swallow it before it spilled out over his lips.

"There's one thing first," Gabriel told him. "You see, we're a band of thieves."

"Truthful son of a gun, ain'tcha?"

"No point in hiding it." he shrugged his shoulders. "So if you come with me, you'll be a thief, too. And I your first job all ready for you. Nothing, I bet, you couldn't handle. But you have to do it, and you have to do it my way. Understand? Do we got a deal?"

Gabriel stuck out his hand.

Jamison's eyes narrowed into slits, he stared down, slowly extending his hand out. What choice did he have, after all?


End file.
